The Moonshine Quest
by Nokomiss
Summary: A pre-Shotgun Bride ficlet. Pansy Parkinson, on a double-dog dare, has to steal something from Filch.


The Moonshine Quest

AN: This was a bday fic for the lovely Rainpuddle13! Her list of requirements, which I managed to work all in, are listed at the end. I advise anyone reading to check out her wonderful fics! This is set pre-Shotgun Bride, with hints of Draco/Pansy.

"I double-dog dare you," said Draco Malfoy cheerfully.

Pansy Parkinson paled. The other faces around the circle looked excited at the prospect.

"Can't back out of it now," Marcus Flint said happily.

"Too bad, Pans," said Millicent Bulstrode pityingly. The dare was unspeakably horrible, and the worst part was that Pansy knew she deserved it for what she had just done to Draco.

It was her fourteenth birthday, and she had invited all her friends over for the 'party' that her mother had insisted she wasn't too old for. Pansy had wanted an unsupervised party, preferably with beer, but it hadn't been possible under her mother's watchful glare. Pansy privately considered herself fortunate that she had successfully evaded the fluffy pink monstrosity of a dress that her mother had picked out, and instead found herself bedecked in a plain, dark blue dress that was infinitely better.

So instead of the cool party she had pleaded with her friends to just try to behave, and to try to have good, clean fun. And things had been going surprisingly well. Her birthday cake had been chocolate covered in thick pink frosting (undoubtedly at her mother's insistence) with "Happy Birthday!" written in large, looping, professional lettering. She had an idea that the cake had been bought at Wal-Mart, but didn't call her mother out on it.

She had opened her presents, for the most part pleased with what she received. She had been somewhat befuddled by her brother Peter's gift, a somewhat battered book _The Old Man and The Sea_ by Ernest Hemingway. She had flipped through the pages, expecting to find money to make up for the crappiness of the gift, but to no avail. She had given her brother a pointed stare that he ignored blithely. He finally noticed and protested, "It's about fishing!"

She had tossed it aside, and had fawned over the nicer, classier presents her friends had given her.

Soon, though, boredom had set in, and a game of Truth or Dare had emerged. After several mostly uneventful and harmless rounds, Draco had thrown the gauntlet down, and Pansy was now stuck. He had done the unthinkable.

He had dared her to go to Filch's cabin and to steal some of the moonshine that Filch had in his shed.

She had no choice. It was a double-dog dare.

She hurried along the path, which was more overgrown than she remembered from playing in these woods as a child. The woods were at the edge of the trailer park, and Filch lived deep in them, utterly secluded. Well, there was a gravel road that led to the main road, and a few other houses and shacks scattered throughout the woods, and a creek that had a few footbridges crossing it, but other than that it was utterly secluded.

Draco, Marcus, Millicent and the others had escorted her straight to this particular path, which began on the far side of the creek and led to Filch's cabin, and had promised to wait there until she successfully returned. No one had said anything about what to do if she didn't successfully return. They were probably planning on taking off as soon as she had gotten out of sight. She cursed them mentally as she snagged her dress on another prickly bush. It was _her birthday_ and here she was wandering around in the woods alone, heading off to certain doom.

Filch was best known for sitting on his front porch, shotgun resting on his lap, waiting for an unfortunate trespasser to come by so that he could shoot them. It was rumored that he had been the one to shoot old Aberforth Dumbledore's favorite goat, supposedly for looking at him wrong, and that Aberforth's subsequent revenge on Filch's own goat had been the reason for his trouble with the law.

She paused in her walking, and peered into the underbrush. There were some verbena blossoms there, and she impulsively picked a few and tucked them behind one ear. She couldn't see the result, but she had no doubt that she looked every part the lovely maiden taking a stroll through the woods. She slapped at another mosquito, and continued along her way.

After what felt like ages of traipsing along the path, she finally neared the end. She could see Filch's cabin, settled in its small meadow with various outbuildings and his big old black Lincoln Continental docked in the weed-straggled dirt in front of the house.

She had to get to the shed nearest the house. That was where everyone knew Filch kept the good stuff. It was also, by no coincident whatsoever, the hardest place on the property to get to without getting shot or mauled by Filch's insane cat.

She looked around. Filch was nowhere in sight, though he had to be on the property somewhere. His car was there, after all.

She took a deep breath, and stepped into Filch's yard.

"Quack."

She jumped. There was a duck. Pansy desperately kicked at it, and tried to walk around it. The duck refused to move, but she had nothing to bribe it with. More ducks emerged, and pretty soon a flock of waterfowl were standing around here, bills flapping as they quacked at her.

"Quack. Quack. Quack. Quack."

They were more insistent now.

She backed slowly up, but the ducks surrounded her anyway.

"Quack. Quack. Quack. Quack."

She was pressed against a tree. She tried kicking at the ducks, but they seemed impervious to harm. The quacking was louder. Filch undoubtedly could hear them, and would investigate soon, shotgun in hand.

She wished that she had something she could throw to the ducks, to feed and distract them. She slapped at another mosquito, and remembered the verbenas behind her ear. She tossed one far to her left, and a good portion of the ducks followed it. She tossed two more of the blossoms in the same direction, and took off towards the car. If she could make it there, then she should be free from the ducks.

She made it to the car, and had leaned against its front quarter panel for just a moment when she heard the hissing. She turned slowly around and saw, to her horror, Mrs. Norris. Mrs. Norris was reputedly half bobcat and meaner than a junkyard dog. Pansy let out a squeak, and before she had considered the repercussions had opened the door and leapt into Filch's Lincoln.

She sat on the cracked vinyl seat, panting and peering out the window. Mrs. Norris was pacing back and forth, occasionally swiping at the door with a clawed paw. She'd laughed when she watched _Cujo_, mocking anyone too dumb to outsmart an animal. She revoked all the mockery now, and sent up a quick prayer for help.

"Mrs. Norris?"

Oh, dear lord. By help she had not meant, send imminent death right to me, she thought angrily to whoever might be listening. She scrunched down in the seat as far as she could, and hoped that Filch was not planning on going anywhere. She just had to have leapt into the front seat, where there was no chance of hiding.

"Mrs. Norris, get in here," continued the gravely voice. This time she realized it wasn't nearly as close as it had sounded the first time. He probably was still inside the house, yelling out the front door.

Mrs. Norris hissed again, and then there was silence. Then came the bang of a screen door hitting the frame, and further silence.

Pansy stayed hunched down on the seat for a few more minutes before cautiously poking her head up. There was no one in sight. She peered out the window. No Mrs. Norris. She was safe. She opened the door, and climbed out of the car. After another cautious glance around, she took off towards the shed. She made it there safely only to realize there was a padlock on the door.

"Damn!" she said. She couldn't believe she had made it this far only to be stopped by something that she should have realized would be in place before she even started this stupid dare. She thunked her head against the door and was shocked as the door swung in. She looked at the lock and realized it had been pried loose of the door, but still gave the appearance that the shed was locked. Filch must have lost the key.

She stepped into the shed cautiously and let out an involuntary gasp. There were bottles everywhere! Okay, a good half of them were empty and scattered on the floor, but there were a good number of filled bottles and jugs. She looked around, trying to decide which one would not be missed, then decided that Filch couldn't possibly have any sort of system and grabbed one on the nearest shelf. She peered out the door and prepared to make her dash back across the yard.

Only she couldn't. Sometime during the precious few minutes she had been in the shed, Filch had moved back onto the porch. He sat in his rocker, chewing on his tobacco, shotgun balanced across his lap and Mrs. Norris pouncing something near his feet.

She sighed. This was undoubtedly the worse dare she had ever had to do, even worse than the time Millicent had dared her to flash Mr. Malfoy. She leaned against the wall, close enough to the cracked door that she could keep an eye on Filch's movements, and opened the jug of moonshine she had grabbed. She took a swig, willing herself not to cough as her eyes watered. The next swallow went down easier, and she sighed again. How long was that old man going to sit on his damn porch waiting for someone to wander by?

Filch continued to rock, muttering something underneath his breath. Pansy strained her ears, but that proved futile as Filch began to speak louder. "Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That'll teach you to drink, my ass," he said. "Just wait until I see Albus again. He's going to get it, yes he is, Mrs. Norris."

He spat.

"And to think Fletcher had the nerve to _agree_ with the bastard! Like he's ever done an honest day's work in his life! See if I ever tell him the lotto numbers again," continued Filch.

Pansy leaned back against the wall. Filch was probably just ranting about getting fired again.

Several minutes later, as the sky began to darken and Pansy had decided that she might have to spend the night in the shed, Filch stood and headed back for his front door. She didn't hesitate, but took off towards the path in the woods before the door had even shut.

She made it to the path without getting attacked by ducks or Mrs. Norris, shot at or dropping the jug. She hurried along the path a little more, then leaned against a tree, panting. She hurried along the path, stepping up her pace as she heard familiar voices along with the splash of the creek.

"There she is!" Millicent said cheerfully as Pansy came into view.

"What happened to you? We came all the way back here half an hour ago because we got worried, and you still weren't back." Marcus said.

"Is that what I think that is?" Draco asked, eyeing the jug and dropping the crawfish he had pulled out of the creek.

Pansy glared. "I hate you all! Especially you!" She glared at Draco. "You have no idea how horrible that was!"

"I don't know... you look pretty horrible," Marcus offered.

She shoved her ill-gotten gains at Draco. "Here!"

He accepted it and took a swig, then another, before passing it to Millicent, who sent it Marcus's way. When the jug got back around to Pansy, they all grinned and said, "Happy birthday!"

Draco leaned over and kissed her, undoubtedly emboldened by the moonshine, and Millicent and Marcus hooted and hollered in the background. "Wanna go out?" he muttered after taking another drink. Pansy took the jug from him and kissed him again. "Is this another dare?"

"Maybe."

"Well, you're going out with me anyway," Pansy said decisively.

Draco grinned. "Okay," he said before leaning in for another kiss.

The End.

Fic requirements: Trailer park!Pansy, her brother must show up, there must be a duck, mention of Ernest Hemingway, verbena and crawfish or alligator, and a birthday cake. Bonus points if you work in Filch and the line "Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That'll teach you to drink."


End file.
